


Poison Ivy Clocks Batman

by SmartCoffee



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Biology, Dating, Education, Environment, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Science, University, clean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartCoffee/pseuds/SmartCoffee
Summary: Alfred is tired of Bruce being single and lonely. He sets him up with a young woman who comes from a good family. She also happens to be smart and beautiful. Pamela Isley is a graduate student who believes that the secrets of plants can change the world.
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Batman Meets Poison Ivy**

Dining Room, Wayne Manor 

A wise woman once said, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." Bruce Wayne was a single man. He was in possession of a good fortune. But as for what he wanted, a wife was lower on his list than a stealth jet and a spotlight emblazoned with a bat logo.

"Master Wayne, it is high time you found a suitable alliance. It is unheard of for a Wayne to remain single at 35.” Alfred sat across the table from Bruce, giving him a stern look.

"Alfred, with all due respect, whether or not I get married is none of your business," Bruce looked at the white lace tablecloth rather than meet Alfred’s stare. 

"I will not be here forever, Master Wayne. You will benefit more from having company than you expect," scolded Alfred.

Three days later, Alfred and Bruce sat at a table at the Palmer Hotel with an accountant, his wife, and his daughter. His daughter, Pamela Isley, seemed determined not to speak.

"She's very smart, Bruce. Not too smart, you know, she’s not as smart as you," said Mr. Isley.

Pamela looked carefully at Bruce. She hated capitalist, Brooks Brothers types like him. He probably wanted to talk about his BMW or his yacht. But he had thick, strong arms. If only he were an activist, if only they were having a chance encounter where he was making her feel safe in his embrace. 

"Where is she going to school?" Alfred asked.

"She attends Gotham University. She wants to get a Master's degree in biology," Mr. Isley proudly stated. 

"It's actually botany," said Pamela.

"Oh, that's right. Yes, botany," said Mr. Isley.

"Bruce has an active interest in science as well. Isn't that right?" asked Alfred.

Bruce thought, "This is killing me. It's so boring. If it were just the two of us, it might not be awful, but being chaperoned makes me feel like a geeky kid."

"I was just reading about the Calvin Cycle the other day. It would be amazing to discuss it with someone who knows botany. Of course, it would be rather technical so perhaps it would be better if just the scientists could have a word," said Bruce.

Alfred picked up the signal. Alfred, Mr. Isley, and Mrs. Isley got up to get coffee.

"You were reading about the CALVIN CYCLE? Please. How lame can you be?" said Pamela.

Bruce shrugged. "It worked, didn't it? Let's cut to the chase. Do you have any interest in me - be honest?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I was just reading about the Calvin Cycle the other day. It would be amazing to discuss it with someone who knows botany. Of course, it would be rather technical so perhaps it would be better if just the scientists could have a word," said Bruce.

Alfred picked up the signal. Alfred, Mr. Isley, and Mrs. Isley got up to get coffee.

"You were reading about the CALVIN CYCLE? Please. How lame can you be?" said Pamela.

Bruce shrugged. "It worked, didn't it? Let's cut to the chase. Do you have any interest in me - be honest?"

"Absolutely none," said Pamela. She wasn't being entirely honest. But there was no polite way to tell a man you just met that you wanted his body but were repulsed by everything else about him.

"Thank you. I'm not interested in you either. But now that that's out of the way, we can still make the most of this time,” said Bruce. 

"Do you always take control of situations for your own advantage?" asked Pamela.

"Most of the time. Don't you?" asked Bruce.

"Rarely. Only in extreme conditions."

"Who studies botany? Why are you a plant freak?" asked Bruce.

"Plants are fascinating. They are alive but not as mobile as animals. They don't eat, but they make food. They lack brains yet every aspect of their lives reflects extraordinary intelligence," said Pamela.

"Extraordinary intelligence? What does it mean for a plant to be intelligent?" asked Bruce, incredulously.

"Intelligence is hard to define, but the consensus says it must have something to do with solving problems. Consider all of the problems plants solve - how to get energy, how to grow, how to reproduce, and how to survive. The success of plants is essential to the success of all life. Humans would starve without them. All animals would. The mere fact that we are here is a testament to the intelligence of plants," said Pamela.

"So you have a passion for your field," observed Bruce.

"You don't know the half of it," said Pamela.

“You’re much more interesting than I am. I’m exactly who you think I am,” said Bruce. It was a slight miscalculation. Most people consider themselves interesting and complicated. It's somewhat odd to say that you are actually what you seem. But Isley didn't pick up on that. 

"We're never going to see each other again, so it doesn't matter what I say to you. Besides, no one would ever - . . ., it doesn't matter. There's a building on campus, Hilsanto Hall. All the funding came from a biotech company that's ruining biodiversity. They genetically engineer plants that outcompete ancient native plants. The gene pool will shrink. It's like forcing plants to breed with their cousins. Then when a disease or pest strikes the plants, they won’t have the diversity to fight back. They're absolute monsters. That building will not be there when I graduate."

"You'd vandalize a building on your own campus? Even at the risk of your Master's Degree?" asked Bruce.

"I don’t need to worry about Batman. He’s just a cop with a bigger budget. It wouldn't be vandalism. Not exactly. Vandalism isn't as hot as what I'm envisioning. All my degree would do is confirm that I know botany. But sending a message to Hilsanto would change the world.” said Pamela.

"You're insane," said Bruce.

"Insane people lose the ability to protect themselves. I can protect myself. I don't like the idea of you remembering what I just told you." She picked up a vase and brought it down on Bruce's head with all of her force. Bruce slumped down with a concussion.

The doctor asked what had happened. Pamela explained that she was a student of botany and was taken aback by the flowers in the vase. She picked up the vase to get a look from another angle. It was heavier than she thought and it slipped out of her hands. Bruce failed to get out of the way in time. The graduate of both a college and a medical school found this to be a plausible story and let her go without further questions.


	3. Chapter 3

How could he give her a B minus? She had spent so long working on it. She had spent 52.4 hours and 24 minutes on it, to be exact.

At least he offered to give her notes for future work. In fact, he said she could come to his townhouse if it was easier for her. It seemed a bit odd to come to his house for that but Gotham professors hated doing office hours. Rumor had it that the professors were planning to strike over the right to get paid for office hours.

His house was mildly disappointing. She hoped to become a professor so she wanted to see what a professor’s lifestyle looked like. She looked up his faculty page and saw that he had been teaching at Gotham for four years. Three bedrooms, small kitchen, and one car. She noticed there was no sign of children. There were no legos, no stuffed animals, no soccer trophies, no crayon drawings on the fridge. He wore a wedding band and there was a recent wedding photo in his office.

“Pamela, you could do much better.”

What she wanted to say was, “Yeah dude, you could do better too. You’re a brilliant professor but here you are living like the manager of a Domino’s.”

"Professor Braun, I found the most authoritative literature on my topic. I spent hours in the library going through journals. For the articles that weren't available, I used interlibrary loans. Then I went over my notes from my methods class to make sure I was relying on authorities properly. Show me how to write a better paper for next time. I probably need to get more organized, use outlines, and color-coded notes," is what she said.

"Relax, just listen and take a few notes. I've helped students just like you before," he said.

It was a great session of questions, answers, tips, and tricks. He didn't just tell her the obvious common-sense steps every teacher mentions. It was amazingly useful.

"Hey, I may have to send you home. I need to clean up and figure out dinner before my wife comes home. You understand, right?" he asked. She found his sensitivity endearing. He was making time for her while still attending to the needs of his wife.

"Of course. If anything, I should be apologizing. I shouldn't have taken so much of your time," she said.

But before Pamela left, Professor Braun gave her a fleeting, but unmistakable kiss on her forehead. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one has a unique format.

[Academic Records of Pamela Maria Isley from Gotham University, 2006 - 2009]

Gap Junction Vesicle Transfer in Russian Winter Wheat:

A Literature Review by Pamela Maria Isley

Abstract:

Botanists and agricultural engineers have thoroughly studied Russian winter wheat for seven decades. Recent histological data suggests the existence of differentiated membranes . . .

Instructor Comments:

Your paper is beautifully written. The flow of sentences runs gracefully from introduction to conclusion.

I question whether membrane porosity has the significance that you imply but you supported the claim.

Your decision to attend office hours was a prudent one, and we can both see the positive results.

Sweetheart, this was a refreshing improvement. 


	5. Chapter 5

Pam thought:

The nerve of this jerk. "Your paper is beautifully written." There are so many ways to say an author wrote well. Eloquently, articulately, skillfully. But he wrote "beautifully." Then this,"The flow of sentences runs gracefully from introduction to conclusion." GRACEFULLY? He's trying to gaslight me! Is he talking about my fine writing or is he flirting?"

But the ending is unmistakable, "Sweetheart, this was a refreshing improvement." He did that on purpose. SWEETHEART?!! You are married. I could just kill him. You have no business calling anyone 'Sweetheart," but the one you married. I may have my own reservations about monogamy, but he clearly married that woman. As far as I know, she's a perfectly nice person. 

Yet what should I do about it? I don't have any clout at the school. As gross as it feels right now, I may have to work with him to finish my doctorate. If there's anyone else I can work with, I will try my damnedest to pick a substitute. My friend Janice told me that a professor who raped her ended up on her dissertation committee. She's still waiting to finish her Ph. D.

For a hot minute, he made me feel special. God, I hate myself for even admitting that. No, you know what? I am special. I am a rock star. Just because he's a liar and he said I was smart doesn't mean I'm dumb. I wouldn't be here, in the middle of a Ph. D. program in botany, if I were dumb. Even Bruce could see it, and he doesn't owe me anything. I've been thinking about him too. He wasn't smooth or charming. Actually that's what was so, I don't know, irresistible? He's just a guy who doesn't give a damn. He was brave enough to say right away that he wasn't interested in me. But still, I'm not going to drive his BMW.

Crap, I told him I was going to burn a building. I don't even know if I was serious. I was just mad. Part of me still thinks someone ought to do it, but I also see how much I'd be throwing away. 

There's a voice in my head that says, "Pam, burn it all down." That sounds messed up, but I think it depends how you interpret it. Does it mean burning down a building and being a terrorist? 

Or does it mean - let go of the past, throw that piece of paper in the trash, and start over? Let go of being the A-plus student. Throw away any ideas of being some dude's Stepford wife. Rename this file called "Pamela Isley" and start over.

Afterwards Pamela finished her shower and toweled off.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm keeping this story PG-rated because there are people I care about that will be very upset otherwise. But some readers on ao3 like clean stories so this is for them. Or maybe you just like stories and the whole dirty-clean dynamic doesn't affect you.

It was Batman on her doorstep and of course she had to let him in. It was all terribly illegal, but there was no prosecuting Batman in Gotham.

“Miss Isley, I’m concerned about you,” he said.

“Is that a fact? I haven’t broken the law,” said Pamela.

“You’re planning an attack that would constitute domestic terrorism. Doesn’t that seem like a valid reason for me to be concerned?” asked Batman.

“You won’t get another word from me until you let me bring a lawyer,” she said confidently, though her knees shook in her leggings.

“Look, you may not realize it, but I can see that you’re at a fork in the road between being a person who lifts the world up and a person who pulls the world down. I’ve seen it before and I didn’t do enough to help people make the right choices. You’re brilliant and you have a thousand gifts that other people wish they had. Don’t throw it all away.”

“Is that all?” asked Pamela.

“You can lift the world up or pull it down, said Batman, and with a flash of his cape, he was gone.

She had so many thoughts. He was such a fascist to come in to her house without a warrant and act like he was her boss. What authority did he have? Yet he was not very harsh with her. At least compared to the stories she had heard, he wasn’t harsh. She had heard of him stringing people up on the side on skyscrapers. He just talked to her. It did give her a chill when he said “domestic terrorism,” but he wasn’t totally wrong. She wanted to burn down a building at Gotham U to show that she wouldn’t stand for the biotech companies taking over schools. If she went through with it and the case went to court, wouldn’t they call her a terrorist?

As she was processing all of this, she got a knock on the door. She couldn’t place it, but the knock had the beat of a children’s song like Pop Goes the Weasel or John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. 

“Joker, Joker, it's the Joker.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion. But she opened the door and sure enough, it was the Joker. Was the third ghost of Christmas going to come too?

“Hey kid, mind if I come in? You can tell me to beat it,” said an oddly courteous Joker.

Pamela gestured for him to enter. She had a hunch that the Joker wasn't as bad as the TV news said. She didn’t feel safe exactly, but she felt like he was a risk she could handle.

"I saw the Mouse was here. Did he scare you?" asked the Joker.

"Not really. He seemed more disappointed than angry. But what's it to you?" asked Pamela.

"I don't know what you said or did, but you spooked him. He would have to be scared to show up at your door without a warrant. Hell, if you cried rape, it could be a disaster. No, you definitely scared him and I like scaring him." said the Joker.

"That's weird. I'm a nerd. Nobody's scared of me. I said something unwise on a date and I suspect that set this whole chain of events in motion. I think if I just do nothing, it will go away," said Pamela.

It didn't quite add up in the Joker's mind. "You're much smarter than my usual acquaintances. It's a shame. I would've worked with you, and I usually hate working with people."

She noticed that he complimented her but didn't take the creepy step of calling her 'brilliant and beautiful' or some such pairing of intelligence and beauty. Also, it was reasonable to conclude that if his usual acquaintances were crooks that she was much smarter than them. 

Silently, she approached him. She gently touched a strand of his wavy green hair.

He said, "Go ahead."

She kissed his cheek and felt a jolt of heat. He had such a strange type of charisma. 


	7. The Student Who Bombed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching a lot of Archer lately. See if you can detect the influence.

Gotham University allowed students and faculty to have rice cookers. Most of the beneficiaries of this policy, though certainly not all, were Asian. Two students of European descent also benefitted. One was Mitchell James, a sophomore who managed to make world-class sushi in his dorm room. The other was Pamela Isley.

A determined terrorist following readily available guides can turn a rice cooker into a bomb. Of course doing so could have several terrible outcomes. The bomb might never go off, which would be a failure from the terrorist’s perspective. The bomb might go off prematurely, killing only the terrorist, thus a failure from the terrorist’s perspective, but a somewhat welcome outcome for society. Or the bomb might kill dozens.

A few days before her planned attack, Pamela walked into the faculty lunchroom in Hilsanto Hall with a brand-new rice cooker. She simply said, “A gift from the Alumni Association.” The professors didn’t even look up from their phones, their bowls of noodles, their takeout containers, and their sandwiches. 

Then on a seemingly ordinary Sunday night, she struck. Her student card was all it took to get in to the Quad. An app on her phone sent a signal to the bomb lying in the cavity of the rice cooker. “They won’t catch me, will they?” she speculated. But then she reassured herself that she was far too clever to get caught.

KRAKOOOM!  
The spiraling red flames framed her figure as she walked away, her hips swinging back and forth.


	8. Chapter 8

On a rainy and windy night in Gotham, there wasn't much use in going out. The two girls were curled together under a pale pink wool blanket. Nothing fancy or high-priced, but wonderfully soft.

"So that's how it all started? How you went from a goody-goody to a bad girl?" asked Harley.

"More or less. I may have stretched some things this way or that. But I'm only human," said Pamela

"More red, Red?" asked Harley, carefully getting up. She didn't want to push her girlfriend or spill any wine.

"Why not?" replied Pamela.

Harley brought a glass of red wine for her and a glass of white for herself. Their wine expenses were running high. Harley made a mental note. It might be smart to switch to the cheap stuff next month. She put them both on the night stand and found her place under the blanket.

"What about all those magical plant powers you have? When did you get those?" asked Harley.

"Haha. First, they're not magic. All of them are based on plant biochemistry. Second, those came after the Hilsanto bombing and after years of work in the lab," said Pamela.

"And what about the other special ability you have?" asked Harley with a wink.

"Meaning?" asked Pamela, puzzled.

"Well you were kinda into Bruce Wayne back then, but now you're hopelessly devoted to me," said Harley.

Pamela practices an English accent, "My dear, the first time ever I laid eyes on you, no man had any power over me any further."


	9. Chapter 9

It would be fun to continue this fic but I don't know how. 

Here are some ideas:

-Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn break up and wage war on each other

-Poison Ivy becomes seriously ill.

-A jealous Joker tries to drive Ivy and Harley apart.

Do you like any of these ideas? Do you have something better?


End file.
